This Year's Love // Michael Clifford

Chapter Eleven

That's Brittany's outfit minus all the jewelry!

Chapter Eleven

Brittany Dawson

Today, Calum had the brilliant idea to go to Six Flags. Since she is his girlfriend, Becca easily went along with it. Me? Not so much.

"It's really expensive," I groan. "I don't have sixty dollars to just throw around."

"Just ask Michael," Becca says.

"No." I shake my head. "He's already helping to pay for our bills. I'm not going to ask him for sixty dollars to third wheel you and Calum."

"Then ask Michael to come," she groans. "He'll probably offer to pay for you anyway."

I roll my eyes. "You and Calum just go. I'll stay home."

A knock sounds through our apartment before Becca can reply and she goes over to let in whoever it is (I assume Calum). I just head to my bedroom, not really in the mood to see the couple's initial greeting (which involves their mouths; gross).

As I'm about to sit down on my bed and enjoy Sherlock on Netflix, there's a knock on my bedroom door. I holler for whoever to come in. To my surprise, it's Michael.

"What are you still doing in your pajamas?" he pouts. "Get ready. We're going to Six Flags."

"I don't know. I don't really have the-"

"If you say you don't have the money for it I'm going to bitch slap you."

We both stare at each other, silently blinking. A grin finally breaks out on my face and I shut my laptop and hop off the bed.

"I hate you," I joke as I pull open the drawer my shorts were in.

"Ooh, wear those," Michael says, grabbing a yellow and white pair I had clumsily stashed in my drawer.

"With what?" I ask, taking the high-waisted fabric from him.

Michael only shrugs, making himself comfortable on my bed whilst I rifle through the shirts in my closet.

"Oh, yeah," I say, pulling a shirt off the hangers. "You left this here, like, last week."

I throw the black material at Michael that had Metallica printed in large letters and what I assumed to be a symbol from one of their albums. I wouldn't really know. I don't listen to them.

"How did I leave my shirt here?" Michael asks.

I shrug. "Guess you went home shirtless."

"I don't recall," he says. "Either way, you should wear it."

"What? No." I shake my head.

"It'll look good. C'mon. I want to see you in my shirt," Michael replies.

I feel my cheeks warm up. "Alright, I guess."

I make Michael turn around as I change into the clothes, slipping on a pair of black Vans afterwards.

"Wow," Michael says as he turns back around.

"What? Does it look bad?" I nervously ask.

"No, no." He shakes his head, standing behind me in the mirror. "It looks great. You look great."

I bite my lip, looking down at all the makeup lining the vanity. I go to reach for the liquid eyeliner when Michael slaps it out of my hand.

"What?" I meet his eyes in the mirror.